


Jackals and Flames

by Radiolock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alpha John, Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Bonding, Case Fic, Domestic, Drama, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Forced Bonding, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, References to Abuse, Romance, Serial Killers, Sherlock Holmes on the Asexuality Spectrum, Slash, Teenlock, Tragedy, Virgin Sherlock, supressants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolock/pseuds/Radiolock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An omegaverse AU where Sherlock is asexual in a world where mating is seen as essential, all while dealing with a series of murders that were not as simple as he previously believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obvious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always obvious. Always simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to medical school, I have not been able to update this fic. Maybe in the future, but I'm genuinely unsure and sorry.

_Who let them in?_

  
_You got me into this mess. So._

  
_You get me out._

  
_You get me out._

  
“John? John, are you alright?” Harry tapped John’s shoulder with a wooden spoon.

  
“Shit, watch it, that’s got sauce all over it, you know!” John jerked from her, moving his elbow to the top of the kitchen table.

  
“Ah, so it speaks.”

  
“Yes it does,” John mumbled, turning another page in his notebook. “I don’t know how anyone just expects med-students to preform practicals.”

  
Harry stirred beans over the stove, tsking, “Oi, you’re no med-student yet. Still not in Uni. Still a baby.” She smirked at John.

  
He rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I just- what is this even? Why would anyone need to know what a jejunum is?”

  
Harry shrugged, “Maybe you should ask that nerdy friend of yours. What’s his name again?”

  
“Sherlock. Come on, that’s a hard name to forget, Harry,” John smirked, “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’d know the answer before I’d ask for his help. ‘Dissecting a cat? How childish. Seriously, John, I’d hope you’d focus on more interesting subjects by now.’”

  
“Weirdo,” Harry licked the spoon before tossing it into the sink, “Why do even talk to him?”

  
“Because I like him.”

  
“Ohh,” Harry ruffled John’s hair before he shooed her. She snickered, “Johnny’s got a crush.”

  
“I seriously don’t.” John closed his notebook and got up from the counter. “Stop being stupid.”

  
“Oh, look, you’re starting to sound like him too. Isn’t mirroring a sign of attraction?”

  
“Harry, seriously stop.”

  
“Wait, isn’t Sherlock the omega kid?” Harry’s quirked an eyebrow, “John. You haven’t-”

  
“Harry-” John’s wrist was tugged on before he could leave the kitchen. His sister’s eyes stared widely at him.

  
“You haven’t bonded with him, have you?”

  
John’s face heated up, “Of course not! I’m not even gay, though you keep trying to put me in that box.” He wriggled his hand from her grasp. “We’re just friends!”

  
Harry placed her palm on John’s forehead, “You’re warm. Johnny, don’t lie to me. You’ll get in serious shit if you two try anything like that. Or if he gets pregnant? Shit, mum and dad are going to murder you. And not in a way that that Sherlock bloke would figure out.”

  
John stared back at her, ignoring the sweat forming at his temples. He swallowed, “Harry, trust me.”

  
“You didn’t, did-”

  
“Please. We’re just friends. Okay?”

  
Harry closed her mouth. Their eyes stayed on each other. She removed her palm.

  
“Put your notes away and come down for dinner. Mum said she’ll be home by eleven again.”

  
*****

  
_If I knew now._

  
_What I knew then._

  
_Just give me more time._

  
_I hope and pray._

  
Sherlock was sulking on the couch by the time John got home from surgery.

  
“Sherlock?”

  
“Mm.”

  
“What are you doing?”

  
“Sulking.”

  
John took off his coat and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Why?”

  
“Body hasn’t come in yet.”

  
John collected two cups. “Pity.”

  
“Hmmm.”

  
John walked back into the living room, “Do you want to talk?”

  
“No.”

  
“I-”

  
Sherlock sighed loudly and flopped, turning his head towards John, “You once told me it was all fine.”

  
“It is! But-”

  
“But you don’t approve.” The street light poured through the blinds, illuminating the grey eyes staring at John.

  
“Sherlock, I was the one who suggested we both go on suppressants. It’s the safest option if we’re going to live together.”

  
“Please, don’t attempt lying to me, John. You should know by now it has a minimal chance of ever succeeding. Scratch that- it has zero chance.”

  
There was a loud ding from the kitchen. John blinked, “It is the best option.”

  
“No, it’s a blanket. You’re clearly disappointed at the fact that we will never be as physically intimate as you would hope- especially since we already fit such perfect roles- the level-headed, but sympathetic alpha with the omega brainiac. You’re in love with me and wish to show that through the highest level of affection you can offer, and what society has insinuated is necessary. You wish to bond, but knowing that it will never be a possibility, you suggested that we both take suppressants to hide the rather apparent elephant in the room.”

  
Silence. Sherlock turned his head towards the blinds, steepling his fingers under his chin.

  
“Sherlock.”

  
“John.”

  
John swallowed, “I reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

  
“It’s not a rare occurrence. Look at the world around you. Omegas and alphas are expected to mate- it is in our design, in our smell. The lackluster series of occupations people fill their lives with daily- it’s irrelevant. Which is why I refuse to conform to it.”

  
“So… what now then? If you’ve pointed all of this out already.” John opened and closed his hands. He could feel the sweat building in his palms.

  
Sherlock looked back at him, “I am a man of science, not extrasensory applications.”

  
John licks his lips nervously. “Please.”

  
“You’re nervous. Why?”

  
John stepped in front of the couch and knelt in front of Sherlock. He held out his hand, and Sherlock took it, gaze unmoved.

  
“What I said before, I meant it. It’s all fine.”

  
Sherlock watched him carefully before letting the ends of his mouth slowly curl up.

  
“I think the tea’s ready.”

  
*****

  
_If I’m not there._

  
_Physically._

  
_I’m always there before you._

  
_Come what may._

  
“Lestrade, do you know where William is now?” Sherlock stood up from the body and slid his gloves off.

  
“William, why him?” Lestrade lifted an eyebrow.

  
“He’s obviously the murderer. Look at the pattern of fingers cauterized, and the scars left across the lymph nodes under her chin. Symmetrical with the surgery scars on his profile. The fingers alternate with the rings on his finger. It’s clear from the interview you conducted- his posture, the manner in which he described her, using the phrase ‘other half’ in each description of her, rubbing his rings subconsciously as he glanced up and away to recall her memories. He was obsessed with his step sister- forming a cage around her from the moment their families merged. Files I discovered contained complains from his service in the military of his refusal to take medication to suppress heats- causing him a dishonorable discharge after falling into a heat while on leave. It’s easy to know what really happened. He found something to overstimulate his sister’s hormones in a similar form as her suppressant medication, and caused her to bond with him while under the influence. Look at the marks on her. They’re fresh. She clearly isn’t. John, when was the time of death?”

  
John cleared his throat from his spot next to the corpse, “About a day ago exactly.”

Sherlock smiled wildly, “A day ago! She committed suicide- clearly unable to endure the memory any longer. But she didn’t die immediately. She must have been unconscious long enough for her flat mate to panic and call a relative for help. She didn’t call the ambulance, an odd and fatal mistake on her part-”

  
“Hold on, Sherlock, there was no mention of a flat mate-” Lestrade started.

  
“- Friend then, it doesn’t make any difference now! When William arrived, he immediately disposed of his sister’s company- most likely through suffocation and kidnapping after he made his marks of affection on his sister. The flat mate’s body is most likely floating in the Thames now. He’s clearly an idiot ruled by his emotions- he wouldn’t have been able to rid the body elaborately with the rush he’d receive from commemorating his ‘lover’. Send men to his apartment right away- he’ll plan to escape the city in an hour or so.”

  
“Jesus,” John breathed as they left the crime scene and a Lestrade shouting frantically into this mobile.

  
“I know, what a moronic case. Lestrade must be testing my patience. Or it’s Mycroft. Messing with me through my handler.” Sherlock huffed as he pounded a fist on the cab window.

  
“That’s not what I meant.”

  
“Mm. Well. Chinese?”

  
“I don’t think I really have the stomach for it at the moment.”

  
“Obviously a yes then.”

  
John looked out the window. He couldn’t control the smile forming, muttering “Always obvious. Always simple.”


	2. Basic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas can have fun too.

*****

_Transformations._

 

Two pairs of feel stumbled into an alley.

One of the teenage boys shoved the other hard against the cold, brick wall.

“Jake, what the fuck are you doin’?” The boy struggled as his face became crushed.

The body behind him pinned his arms above his head.

“Stay fucking still- I love you, David, I love you,” Jake began peppering David’s neck with kisses as another hand tugged his shirt out of his trousers.

“No, stop! Stop- get the fuck off me! What the fuck’s gotten into you!”

Arms remained pinned roughly against the wall as teeth sunk into David’s flesh.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Jake chanted as blood stained his teeth. “Just stay still, I’m going to show you.”

*****

_Your bell jar._

_Your collection._

 

“Sebby, dear, place this with the others, will you?” Jim shook a canister in the air. Pills rattled against the plastic. The printed William Rogers case was splayed out in front of him. “Isn’t it beautiful? Mating at its finest. Perfect symmetry. The truest form of love, don’t you think?”

A cold hand took the pill bottle from Jim’s hand. “Is this the last one?”

“At the moment, yes. Now off you go. Daddy needs some alone time.”

The door shut behind Jim as he turned the page of the newspaper to the net celebrity who solved the case. _Sherlock Holmes._ His nail scratched along the detective’s cheek. “Oh, darling, we’re two sides of the same coin,” Jim grinned, “You’re me…”

He grabbed a discarded nip and punctured the skin on his forearm. Watched the blood drip down the edge. On top of the Sherlock’s picture, he scrawled, _Betas can have fun too.  
_

*****

_The seeds of the dandelion you blow away._

 

Lestrade peered over his newspaper as Mycroft entered the café. Seeing the older Holmes in such casual settings in a three-piece suit and umbrella tucked underneath his arm never ceased to amuse Greg. It also never stopped reminding him how unorthodox everything was between them. “You know, I don’t think you’ll ever trade the suit for a t-shirt in this lifetime.”

Greg smiled as Mycroft took the seat across from him.

Mycroft smirked, “Well, though that is true, I also never thought I would be one to frequent cafés. Yet, here we are. Maybe I’ve become accustomed to mirroring your behaviors?”

“Thought that’d be too juvenile for you.”

Mycroft laughed, “Ah, yes, well. Onto other matters. How is my brother doing? Not as much of a nuisance as usual, I hope?”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t trade the current Sherlock on a bad day with the John-less one ever. I can’t understand why John though it was a good idea to leave that man alone for almost half a decade.”

“Sherlock understood the debts the Watson family was under during the time. There was no other way for John to receive proper medical education. I am sure all is forgiven between them.”

Greg nodded and lifted his cup, “Any coffee for you?”

“I’m fine. Anthea already covered that this morning. Thank you.”

Greg smiled, “Alright then. You Holmeses are a strange lot, you know that?”

Mycroft reflected the expression, “I may have been informed every now and then.”

Greg opened his mouth again before his phone dinged. He checked the screen, “Seems like I have another lover’s quarrel on my hands,” he began to read, “Husband suffocated and slashed down the stomach in a manner resembling a c-section. Anal tissue bruised. The wife went missing. Both were under suppressants though his blood sample needs to be checked to make sure…Christ.”

“I’m assuming you’ll require Sherlock’s assistance on the scene?”

Greg responded to the text and sent another to Sherlock, “Looks like it. Shit. I’m sorry. I have to go…”

“Quite alright. Anthea’s had the car waiting for me outside.” Greg smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Mycroft’s hand.

“See you another time?”

“Yes. Definitely.”


	3. Lifeless

_Move through the movements._

_Though it betrays._

 John could barely see through the darkness filling through the hallway. Sherlock was already light years ahead of him, nearly bursting into the bedroom door of the brutalized husband.

“George Sanders. 47. Omega. Remarried to Farrah Sanders last spring. There’s no official documentation on their binding,” Greg listed as Sherlock knelt and immediately pointed his magnifying lens over the deep slash left over the man’s body.

“The marriage was doomed from the start by the looks of it,” Anderson quipped with his arms folded across his chest. John squeezed past him as he entered the room.

Donovan lifted an eyebrow at John, “Seems like your omega’s sniffed out another body. Watch out, we wouldn’t want to get him too excited. Rooms full of alphas.”

John bumped her shoulder as he moved towards Sherlock, “Cute. Did it take the one brain you and Anderson share to come up with that? And he’s not my omega.” He crouched next to the detective who was now examining the discoloration on the husband’s quadriceps.

“It seems like another forced bonding caused by an alpha mate. Wife must have disappeared after the deed was done,” Greg pointed at the purple rings formed around the man’s throat, “She clearly suffocated him.”

“No, she didn’t.” Sherlock corrected.

John looked up quizzically, “But… didn’t the report say no one was seen entering the home?”

“Don’t be stupid, look at the foot indentions on the rug, the pressure marks on the throat- far heavier than an 8 stone marketing adviser. Even with an alpha permutation,” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“There was no sign of forced entry. The security network in this neighborhood reported no disturbances,” Anderson said.

“Maybe the husband was in heat? Might have attracted some unwanted visitors?” Donovan interjected.

“Please spare me your ignorance, Sally. It’s clear this man was under suppressants with his wife. It’s in the air around us- do you smell that? Nothing but regular body odors of the couple. Possibly trances of perfumes mixed in,” Sherlock sniffed the air. “Four French brands approximately.”

“When did you start memorizing perfumes?” John grinned.

Sherlock turned towards him. His lips formed as small smile, but Donovan’s voice took over. “Freak.”

“Not an overused insult at all, Sally,” Sherlock returned his attention to the husband’s wound. His gloved finger lightly traced the scabbing flesh, “Farrah had a child through c-section.”

“Yeah, but was a miscarriage unfortunately. From her previous marriage,” Greg informed.

“It’s obvious that this mark symbolizes that event. The question is _who_ left it,” Sherlock stood up, “Where is Mrs. Sanders now?”

“Kristie just informed me that a T. Sanders just checked into a red hotel?” Anderson checked his phone and glanced at Lestrade. “Her middle name is Theresa- this could be our woman. But why would she go to a red hotel right after her husband’s murder?”

Sherlock clapped his hands together and grabbed a confused John’s wrists as he left the room, “Oh, this is brilliant!”

“Sherlock!” John and Lestrade yelled simultaneously.

*****

_Fools rushing in._

_And you know it._   
  


“Sherlock, slow up, you can’t just waltz into a red venue without a warrant! It’s private!” John tugged Sherlock’s fingers off of his forearm as they exited their cab.

“It’s fine, my pheromones are masked by the suppressants. Anyway, if I should cite Donovan’s words, I have _my alpha_ to protect me,” Sherlock scoffed as he walked ahead to the hotel entrance. John sighed. He knew the words would eventually begin to seep through Sherlock’s armor. It was Sherlock’s idea to not keep his permutation secret when moving to London– he was a fighter even though he acted like he could care less about the world moving under his feet. And he forever would have to be one. The body he was born into cursed him from the moment his first heat began, causing him to writhe in fever and betrayal- betrayal of the foreign thoughts forced into his mind of mating and unwanted desire. John made a nonverbal promise to Sherlock when he first saw him like that as a teenager- completely out of control and powerless. They had spoken solely over the phone during the time. Sherlock may have deleted it, but John would never forget the cracks of Sherlock’s voice as he battled his body’s design, his programming to fall into desperation for an alpha to take and control him. Sherlock suffered for days trapped inside himself. John would never forget the unmistakable sobs hear from the other line.

He knew Sherlock was a fighter as well as everyone else did. He watched the belstaff coat disappear through the hotel’s entrance doors and followed the man in, knowing in his mind also that Sherlock was only as strong as their world would allow him to be.

The woman at the counter looked up as they entered the lobby, “Welcome to the Red Pyramid. How may I help you?”

Sherlock’s expression turned solemn, “I’m looking for my sister, Theresa Sanders? My name is Trevor Sanders- it’s an emergency. Our mother’s just been in an accident! Oh, please, may I access her rooming information? I just…” tears began to form, one dropping straight down the curvature of his cheek, “I need her more than anything right now. You understand, don’t you?”

John clasped his hands behind his back and added, “I’m a close family friend here to escort both of them to the hospital.”

“Oh, honey,” the woman stood immediately from her chair and plucked a couple of tissues from the counter for Sherlock, “Of course. We have strict restrictions with sharing clients’ information but I’ll be sure to call her down, is that alright?” She looked at John worryingly.

“I really need to see her in private at the moment actually,” Sherlock sniffed, wiping below his waterlines. John shifted uncomfortably.

“I understand- I’ll alert her room then. I’m so sorry for your tragedy. Please feel free to proceed to room RE5 on the seventh floor. The elevator is quickest,” the receptionist pointed behind them.

“Thank you so much. Come along, John,” Sherlock shot her a weary grin before heading to the elevators. When the doors closed them inside the box, John looked at him incredulously, “You’re seriously going to hell after all this ends, you do know that, right?”

Sherlock dotted his eyes with the tissue before balling it up and putting it into his pocket. He smiled at John, “With the limited knowledge you have, I wouldn’t take you as a reliable source of knowing where my soul’s heading towards in the ‘great beyond’.”

John nudged, “Don’t talk to me about limited knowledge, you great git.”

Sherlock’s smirk grew larger when the doors opened again.

“Room RE5, she said,” John took the lead down the corridor. The letters appeared above the room at the end of the hall in gold against the scarlet wall paper. John’s hand reached for the knob before a sharp “Stop!” from Sherlock moved it back.

“What?” John turned back at him. Sherlock pushed past him and pressed his ear on the white door.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right,” silence entered his ear through the wood. “She’s making too little noise.” Sherlock moved back and turned the knob slowly.

The streetlights poured into the dark room from an open window. Cold air rushed in. John followed Sherlock’s trail to the spot where the light was specifically illuminating- the gagged woman tied to a chair in front of the room’s bed.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!” John ran to the constrains crushing the woman’s frame. The ropes were too strong for his fingers to pry lose.

“There’s no point. She’s been killed quite a while ago,” Sherlock said softly. He stood over John’s shoulder- both of their eyes trained on the lifeless Farrah Sanders staring at the floor.


	4. Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I demand you tell me Mrs. Hudson’s new hiding spot for my patches when we get home, John.

_Who let them in?_

_Well, you know it._

 

“On the case, I see,” Molly beamed.

Sherlock adjusted the morgue’s microscope, moving the skin sample on its stage. John grinned apologetically at Molly from his spot next to Sherlock, “Definitely on the case. He found flakes of skin the rope from the Farrah Sanders scene.”

“It’s horrible what happened to that couple. Some of my coworkers upstairs were chatting about it over lunch,” Molly leaned forward on the counter, staring at the sample, “That must have been a very unhappy marriage.”

“That joke’s already been told, Molly. I wouldn’t recommend you taking up any career requiring skills in comedy,” Sherlock twisted the focus lens.

“How’s the husband?” John quickly changed the subject.

Molly’s face reddened before turning to John, “Oh. Um. His autopsy revealed anal tissue bruised from knotting, so he was definitely bonded forcibly. There’s no certainty yet of if it was his wife or not. Suppressants were found in his bloodstream.” Her eyes avoided Sherlock as she dropped her voice, “There’s so much tragedy in being an omega.”

“Does it make you afraid sometimes?” John rejected the urge to move over to her. The secondary question ‘ _without an alpha to protect you?_ ’ was also kept from being said. Sherlock was beyond enough proof to John that not all omegas needed someone behind them to hold their hand. John still had the scars on his forearm from the first time he tried to assert himself with the teenage Holmes. An idea almost worse than invading Afghanistan.

“Sometimes,” Molly looked down at her hands, “But I… I actually enjoy who I am. I’m a rarity, you know? The only omega in my house, primary school, and now the only omega in my building. It’s nice to think that I’m special in a way I suppose.” She smiled at John.

His lips quirked.

She continued, “I know I get watched more carefully than the betas and alphas, but it’s okay. Even though the city’s practically a safety hazard for me whenever I walk out these doors… and all omegas are told to date betas only when on the workforce because we’re useless when mated…” She bit her lip, “I still hope that one day I’ll meet an alpha.”

Sherlock seem unaffected by the conversation around him. John’s eyebrows lifted. It was so odd hearing someone with such opposing views of mating from Sherlock.  Almost alien. “Even with the fact that mating could change everything?”

It would have been impossible for Molly to have missed the incredulous tone in John’s question. She simply nodded, “I want to have children one day.”

John’s feelings of shock couldn’t overcome the smile brought to his lips by that, “I’m sure you’ll have lovely children, Molly.”

Sherlock huffed at the slide.

Molly smiled back, “And I’ll be careful, of course. All omegas know suppressants are our best friend for living in the big, bad world.”

“I wouldn’t say suppressants were exactly the most admirable companions of George or Ms. Rogers,” Sherlock stated.

Molly fell silent.

“This case has got to be unique, though. There’s no way there’s a pattern going on between this and the Rogers’s body,” John said.

Sherlock unclipped the slide and threw it into the wall in front of him. John and Molly jumped at the crack of glass against cement. “Useless!” he spat.

Molly sucked in a breath and tried to speak again, “Doesn’t the yard have samples as well? Maybe they-”

“Those idiots won’t find anything,” Sherlock collected his coat and scarf from the counter. He began to walk out of the lab, “I demand you tell me Mrs. Hudson’s new hiding spot for my patches when we get home, John.”

John glanced at Molly before following the man out, sighing, “Fucking hell.”

******

 _I’m always before you_.

 

Jim laughed as he tightened cloth gagging the man beneath him. He pushed his cock deeper inside him, “How does that feel to have a beta overpower you?”

Tears dampened the material being pulled by his fingers. The man muffled another scream. Jim bucked his hips roughly into him again- pushing the man’s body harder against the cement floor. His knees were scrapped, donning the same scarlet color of the slashes decorated onto his back.

“Oh, oh, baby alpha. So strong. So protective. Do you like my little beta cock driving into you? Is it hard enough? Maybe I should try something you’re more familiar with, hm?” Jim slowed his hips and cocked his head. His lip pouted as he thought. “What to do, what to do?”

Another scream caught in the cloth. Jim pulled the gag even farther against the corners of the man’s dry mouth, tearing skin. “How ‘bout I bite you? Just as I fill you with my come, I’ll be your alpha tonight! How does that feel?”

The man’s bloodshot eyes opened. Before he could think, sharp canines punctured his deltoid and a hot surge filled his insides. He yelled as loud as he could while the torture resumed.

His world turned to black as maniac laughter filled the space again.


	5. Dedication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are an alpha. You deserve better than me.

_I mistake all you say._

“I know you hate it when I say it, but I love you, know you,” Greg whispered as he reached out and cropped through Mycroft’s hair.

“I don’t hate it,” Mycroft responded. He turned his body on the bed towards Greg and smiled. “Mother has inquired when she will meet you. I told her on Christmas day. Is that a problem for you?”

“Well, since I no longer have the wife and her family, I suppose that’ll be alright,” Greg scooted closer. Their lips brushed. “I’ll probably have to form a strategy for the Holmeses house with John. Lucky bastard’s probably best mates with your mother, huh?”

“They are well acquainted, yes, but nothing you couldn’t do. I assure you, you’ll be fine,” Mycroft kissed him.

Greg smiled against his mouth and ran his hand down Mycroft’s bare shoulder and arm. He could feel hands rest on his hips in return. Greg gasped and pulled away, “I think I’m ready to go off suppressants.”

Mycroft’s voice remained calm, “Are you sure? Your last relationship was much longer, do you think it’s wise-”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure, of course I’m sure,” Greg pushed forward so their bodies were fully touching. He breathed in Mycroft’s alpha scent. “You never took them, even when we were first together. Weren’t you afraid?”

“To a small gradation, I suppose. Unlike my brother, I’ve developed a large sense of self-control since our teenage years. It was necessary that Sherlock was put on suppressant before entering university and the city. I, on the other hand, never lost control. I have never attempted to bond with anyone,” Mycroft stared directly at Greg while running a hand up his spine.

“I guess I should be thankful for that.”

“Are you serious then?”

Greg locked eyes with Mycroft, “Yes.”

“You do understand the implications that come-”

“Yes, yes. I do. Jesus. Just come here,” Greg pulled Mycroft in for another kiss.

******

_So, you get me out._

“John?”

“Yes?” John looked up from his menu. Sherlock had been staring at him from across the table with his fingers tapping absently at his chin since they arrived.

 “There is a connection.”

“Excuse me?”

“To the Rogers case. Both omegas were raped and mutilated post-mortem with marks that matched their alphas’ appearance.”

“But it’s only been two cases; don’t you think it’s too early to be making land-swiping remarks?”

“Land-swiping?” Sherlock eyes narrowed, “The evidence is so clear that I figured even an idiot like you would realize-”

“Enough, none of this tonight, okay?” John kept his voice low, but his shoulders where already hunched along with whitening knuckles on the table. “I’m tired of being second best all the fucking time. I’m always the idiot, the fool you carry around, the bloke everyone feels sorry for. I’ve known you for years, I know how you are, and I know that even as an omega, you are still one of the strongest, most independent people I know but-”

“You feel like I’ve belittled your permutation, don’t you? No longer a Mr. Big Alpha, taking control over his omega, maybe pregnant with a couple of his children, begging for his large cock every second of every day- is that what you want from me? If so, you’re highly unfortunate.”

John’s face reddened, “Shit, Sherlock, I didn’t say that! Just because we’re been exposed to two cases with omega victims doesn’t…Christ, Sherlock!” Heads turned at tables around them. John ignored them, “I never complain about us, I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to be with you-”

“Ha! But are we really together? I know that’s what you’re questioning. We haven’t bonded like the others, hell, you even deny our existence to outsiders. What truly makes us ‘us’ without physicality? You think this constantly and it frustrates you, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?!” Sherlock slammed his fist on the table and stood.

“Sherlock, sit down. You’re…” John looked around him at the shocked faces, “You’re embarrassing us.”

“Haven’t I always?”

John stood up and walked up to him, “Let’s go home.” He reached for Sherlock’s arm, which was jerked back.

“No.”

“Sherlock, please.”

“I’d rather you stop wasting my time and simply admit that you don’t accept me.”

“I fucking accept you! I love you, why the fuck do you keep saying that?” John grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders- completely losing site of the manager coming onto the restaurant floor, “I told you it was fine! I love you and I don’t need to kiss you or fuck you for you to understand that! I-”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” A sturdy, blonde woman asked from behind them.

Sherlock was the first to answer, “None at all. We were just leaving. Don’t worry, my alpha will escort me.”

John bitterly let go of Sherlock and watched the man put on his coat and exit through the door. He followed Sherlock out.

“Omegas are nothing more but breeders, John.  My mother never mentioned their existence as she found them unimportant, until I was revealed to be one during puberty. Then came my introduction to suppressants shortly after. Mycroft never was asked to go under them. In me, however, my mother already saw my fate. I would lose all the potential I had laid out in front of me. In the world I would enter, I would only have one purpose,” Sherlock spoke again once John caught up to him on the pavement.

“You’ve reached your potential, though. So has Molly, and many other omegas in society. Omegas have many more rights now than they did a century ago, it isn’t as bad-”

“You have no idea what it’s like!” Sherlock abruptly stopped and stared at John. “You don’t know what happened when you enlisted, do you?”

John froze, “What are you talking about?”

Sharp, grey eyes locked onto him. Sherlock’s lips remained tight for a moment before opening, “You are an alpha. You deserve better than me.”          


	6. Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I'm still here.

_God in heaven._

_It makes me feel energized._

_All else is sanitized._

_And with such joy._

**_Five years earlier_ **

****

Sherlock swore as the needle pierced his skin. He could almost feel his pupils widen, the breath he let out magnified by what seemed like ten thousand times. A smile played on his lips- he needed anything to make him forget the heat, the foreign thoughts flooding his mind again, the unwanted lust filling his gut and groin.

“Feel good?” The man across from him asked. His name already slipped from Sherlock’s mind, and fell down the whirlpool sucking away all the relentless thoughts constantly circulating and tearing away at his brain. The constant screams of _John, John, John-_

“I said,” The man loosened the band around his arm and removed the needle. He patted Sherlock’s cheek, jiggling his blank face, “does it feel good?”

 “Glorious,” Sherlock droned. His eyes threatened to close and let himself drift on the current passing through his body. _Waves, clouds, peace, light blue, no John, just back and forth, back and forth-_

 “Oi, prettyface, I wouldn’t want you passing out on me now. You’re my best client, but you should know better by now that my flat’s not open for shelter. Even with that delicious smell,” The man’s pats became a harsh slap- startling Sherlock’s eyes open, “Get going!”

Sherlock barely managed to focus on him. The man helped him up from his chair by lifting underneath his armpits. Sherlock grabbed at his shoulders and grunted while attempting to stand. _Just back and forth, back and forth…_

“I can handle myself now,” Sherlock muttered, nearly stumbling out of the man’s grasp and taking his coat from the armchair. He struggled putting it on and smiled back drunkenly at the man before leaving the flat, “Later.”

“Pleasure doing business,” The dealer smirked.

It was a good idea to keep the cab running and parked away. Sherlock squinted at the car as he walked down the pavement. The lights were dancing around him, flares extended like fingers curling towards the lamps with invitation. The people passing him didn’t notice anything off about him, and he wouldn’t let them- making sure his strides were short and body balanced. He could make it down this street. _Just…_ Sherlock’s mind was too clear to calculate anything. _Twenty nine steps?_

“Holmes?” The cabbie opened the door at his arrival.

Sherlock climbed inside and cleared his throat, “427 Hackney Road.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Holmes.”

\-------

The door opened with a harsh squeak as Sherlock stumbled in and closed it behind him. It felt like his head was trying to swim away from him as he walked through his dark flat. He ran his hands over the corridor walls, each bump and paper tear sinking underneath his fingertips. The air felt like a wave of fresh water stringing him along with light voices resembling his mother’s telling him _“It’s alright, Sherlock dear. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. No one else will have you while I’m here.”_

And it brought a smile to Sherlock’s face to know that he was protected. In that quiet flat, on that dingy, alpha and beta dominated street, Sherlock was safe as long as the current was there to wash over him. It would be his John if the military wanted the real one.

“My John,” Sherlock mumbled as his fingers trailed him down the corridor to his living room. He flopped face first onto the couch. Nothing else was in his mind. There was nothing he could reach from memory. So he just held onto the words on his lips, “My John, my John, my John…” His hand opened and closed against the cold cushion fabric. He moved his mouth out from the couch to speak loudly to the empty space around him, “You wanted him, then this will be my John! You wanted him, then I’ll have this!”

His voice echoed and suddenly the water rushing about Sherlock’s body stilled. The flat felt colder as the existence of his loneliness became exponentially more obvious.

His mouth closed as well as his hands. His ear, pressed against the armrest could barely hear the slow heartbeat vibrate out from his chest. “John…”

His phone rung from his coat pocket. Sherlock sighed before slipping a hand in and retrieving it. He answered, “I was waiting for Mycroft to sick my handler on me. I knew that cabbie was too polite…”

“Sherlock, bloody hell, where are you? Robinson said you just left the crime scene without any word. Don’t-”

“Lestrade, tell me,” Sherlock shifted his body up, feeling his eyes fluttering, “How does it feel to be nothing more than my brother’s hound? It must be so…aggravating. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Actually, I’ve _observed._ It’s quite interesting. This _thing_ you two have. How must your wife feel?”

“Shut up, don’t turn this around. Tell me where you are. I told you no more crime scenes while you’re still using.”

Sherlock responded with a sharp laughter. He sat up on the couch and leaned on his knees, “Even now I would be much more sufficient that any of your men. We’re both omegas here, but don’t forget who needs who.” His voice went low at the last sentence.

“Christ. That may be true, but we both know there’s still one thing I can do that won’t make you happy. I can tell John,” Greg felt like a primary student using such a tattletale approach. But what else was left to threaten him with?

“Fucking tell him then! We’re nothing! I’m unbound, my life and choices are my own. No one, and nothing will take that from me! I’m not going to end up like my mother, or like you, or whatever the fuck I’m born to be!”

“Calm down! No one’s telling you to be anything.”

Sherlock laughed again, he could feel the ridges of his phone drop into his skin, “No one? No one but my heats, my scent, the hunger in the eyes that pass me- you say no one? Fuck off! You’re hilarious.”

“Sherlock, Anderson reported that your scent was unsuppressed when you left. For a genius, you’re a fucking moron for wandering down the streets in heat and drugged out of your fucking mind- now tell me where you are!”

“Ah, so it wasn’t his gun creating that bulge. How endearing.”

“Sherlock, for god’s sake-”

“It’s true that I’ve cut myself off from Mycroft and haven’t had the funds necessary to afford them anymore. And I don’t plan to cooperate with you either, handler dear.”

“Are you home?”

“Use your powers of deduction, _detective._ ”

“Fucking hell, Sherlock, don’t you know you’re in danger in that region? It’s right next to a red district, are you out of my bloody mind?!”

“I’ve seem to have lost it, actually. Fell into a current.”

“Shit, just stay there, okay? Just stay there, I’m coming!”

“Do as you like.” Sherlock snapped his phone shut and threw it across the room. The back of the phone cracked open on the floor just as a screech echoed throughout the flat. Sherlock warily look at the entrance corridor. “Hello?” He squinted at the darkness ahead.

Well then.

He stood up from the couch, making a better effort than he did earlier, and went to his phone the ground. Clicking the shell back in place, Sherlock flipped the phone open and went to voicemail. He hit ‘call’.

“You have two new messages. First unheard message sent on November 27th\- ‘Sherlock, Mumm-’” The sound of Mycroft’s voice caused Sherlock to hit 'delete’ quickly.

“Second unheard message sent August 12th\- ‘Sherlock? Sorry, you weren’t answering your texts so I decided to call. So, um… I’m leaving today. My flight leaves at noon, and I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast before then. But. I guess I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re not really a morning person, and not really much of an eating person either. But I just wanted to tell you that… that I’m going to miss you. Even though you don’t like to hear things like that because it rings sentiment or whatever, I’ll miss you. And… I, um, love you still. Of course. I mean, not of course. I just… always do. So, um. Goodbye, I guess. I’ll see you after training ends. Hopefully. So, yeah, um, see you around. Bye, Sherlock-’” John’s message was interrupted by the impact of a large body slamming into Sherlock. The phone dropped to the floor.

“Oi, baby, I could smell ya the moment ya stepped out of yer cab. You’re a tasty treat, aren’t ya? Mind if I have a taste?” rough hands pulled apart Sherlock’s belt buckle as the man behind him slammed him onto the floor. Sherlock gasped when he fell on his knees. The warm body pressed down against his arse and back. “Jesus, darling, ya should be glad I came here before yer body ate itself. Ya must be superman for lasting this long without a nice, big alpha cock filling ya up.”

Sherlock struggled underneath him, but his arms were quickly pinned behind his back and pressed down by the man’s large torso. The belt was slipped free from his jeans and fingers flew immediately to his fly. The sudden movement and slam to the ground caused Sherlock’s senses to go completely haywire. Fear was felt, but Sherlock’s awareness was filled with nothing else but water rushing loudly through him.

A bright glow was felt in his scattered consciousness when the mysterious hand suddenly found his hard flesh and began pumping it. Another light emitted and burned as the second hand found and slapped his bare arse before running two fingers towards the source of discharge leaking and staining his pants.

“Nngh,” Sherlock huffed, his body already betraying him through the drugged fog. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want this-

It was the permutation. His goddamn destiny.

“Oh baby, you’re just ripe for the picking, aren’t ya?” The man ran his fingers up and down Sherlock’s wet cleft. “I guess I’ll have to just fill ya up now. Sorry, darling, we’ll have to cut the bollocks. I _need_ my knot in ya.”

  “No, no, no-” Sherlock panicked, shifting his knees underneath the man’s weight and attempting to kick him away. His body was useless, only trapped him in place so that he could fill his omega role. To be a seed receiver. Desperate and waiting. Taken by a stranger.

_Taken by an alpha. Like a good omega should._

The hand on his cock moved up to the buttons on his shirt and began to undo them only enough that his collar could be pulled apart and the skin around his neck exposed to the man pinning him.

“I’ll leave ya a nice little parting gift along with my big, fat knot, just to remember me by.”

   “Get the fuck off!” Sherlock thrashed his shoulders into the man, and felt his skin light on fire at the teeth scrapping against his flesh. He felt a finger slowly begin to prod his arsehole before he knocked his head back fast and hard enough to hit the stranger’s nose.

  “Fucking shit!” The man fell off of him and clutched his broken nose. Sherlock stumbled his way up with his jeans in hand and quickly refastened them. He turned towards the man, his vision of him swaying.

He saw the mass lunge towards him and jumped to the side- falling clumsily on the couch.

“Ya fucking little prat!” The mass rush towards him again and this time restrained Sherlock by his front. The man’s hands grasped and crushed Sherlock’s arms against the back of the couch. “Fiesty, huh? It’s okay, I like ‘em that way!”

A burst sounded from the entrance corridor. “Hands in the air, now!” Greg shouted behind them.

Sherlock sunk into the cushions once the man let go. His heart and mind slowed even further at the absence of excitement. His erection strained against the front of his jeans as he drifted out of consciousness, barely registering the police storming his flat, the sound of the man being forced onto the ground, and Greg’s shouts of “Sherlock? Sherlock!”

******

_I jump back around.  
I'm reversing._

_I fall under the horses’ feet._

_All the things that I shouldn't see._

 

John’s face hardened, “Sherlock. I’m not going to leave you or hurt you because I can’t have you. Why won’t you believe me?”

Sherlock stared back at him, “Because you wouldn’t be the first.” He turned his back and continued down the street.

John caught up, “Stop being so bloody enigmatic and just talk to me!”

Sherlock spun around, “In all my life, how many omegas do you think I’ve encountered that like me? I became homeless for seven months while you were gone, lived off the street, had to hide from the general public because I decided to live in my own way. Mycroft hired a doctor to secretly monitor me and make sure I wasn’t in heat so I wouldn’t disrupt the city around me!” His eyes flared, “Not for my safety but to protect the functionality of others! That’s _your_ society that _I_ live in, John. We’re force-fed suppressors and tricked to believe our bodies actually allow us to give ourselves a choice. Yes, you are correct that we no longer live in the early twentieth century, but omegas never have independence, John. Do I embarrass you in front of your alpha friends? Then leave me and move on to a more susceptible omega- you have the choice I’ll never have. You can live free.”

John stepped closer. He could see the ice in Sherlock’s expression and moved carefully, “I didn’t realize… I never considered myself as having much of a choice either. I couldn’t leave you, Sherlock. You keep thinking I’m one them- that I think like the others though I’ve come back to you over and over, even before we even knew what we were. I… loved you before all of this. Before all this biological nonsense convoluted us.”

“It’s not nonsense, John, it’s our lives. We can’t avoid it.”

“I thought we were doing the best we could.”

John saw Sherlock’s eyes soften slightly. They remained locked on John’s, “It’s the best solution your average mind can generate, yes. It is the best we can do.”

“You still want there to be a ‘we’?”

“I don’t see any other alternative.”

John smiled lightly, “Is that an apology?”

“I’m not apologizing. “

“Right,” John shifted, “What now then?”

“Well, you gave me no indication of falsity in what you said,” A flash of vulnerability struck Sherlock’s features. He dropped his voice, “There’s no reason for me not to believe you.”

John took the opportunity to tuck a curl behind Sherlock’s ear, “That’s all I ask. I’ve been there for you for nearly twenty years, Sherlock. And I’m still here.”

“Eighteen years, actually.”

John’s smile grew wider, “Ready to go home?”

Uncertainty flashed next, but a small grin formed on Sherlock’s face. He nodded, “Alright. I’ll need to run some more experiments on the skin samples anyway.”

“Of course.”


	7. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another reflection of what he could be one day.

_I’ve forgotten who I am._

_  
But you see through me._

_  
It doesn't mean anything._

_  
A meaningless plaything._

The suppressants rattled when John took them out of his medicine cabinet. The kitchen light remained on though the clock had already struck 3 A.M., but no sounds were made. He should have been able to sleep peacefully for once. It was almost a gift from Sherlock to have a night like this. Peace. Quiet. John left the bathroom and crept upstairs to their bedroom. The sheets were still crisp, but he hadn’t bothered getting under the covers tonight. He knew he should try to sleep, but god knows he couldn’t. Not with all the peace and quiet. Sherlock was too silent. That argument they had went too well.

John sat on the bed and sighed. He could almost feel the silence vibrating through his ear. It brought him back to the first week he returned home from Afghanistan.

_“How much have things changed while I was gone?”_

_“Well, sometimes now I don’t talk for days on end. Will that bother you?”_

_“When did this occur?”_

_“I suppose it just happened.”_

_“But why?”_

_“So many questions for a man who’s sister just left her wife. Shouldn’t you be more concerned of her wellbeing? I assure you, I’m fine, John. You’ve already ignored two of her calls this evening. We can discuss this later.”_

That was all Sherlock had said to him about the time of his absence. Nothing about homelessness or hiding. Mycroft hadn’t said anything either. What else was being kept from him? _That’s your society that I live in, John._ Helplessness was the loudest feeling that filled John at those words. How helpless it was to be part of the majority of his world and have no control over the discrimination that spewed and was enforced for his benefit. How hopeless it was to watch the most impactful human being in his childhood become slowly reduced into nothing due to the most microscopic but significant part of him.

John waited for a glass to crack on the floor or the sound of a violin to drift from downstairs. Or _something_. Any sign of life from downstairs. Any sign of fight from the essence of Sherlock Holmes underneath his permutation.

Anything.

*****

_I’m messing up._

_Messing up the balance._

_While you all lie down._

_  
I'm skipping back through the tapes._

 

Testing the skin flakes turned out to be another failure. The only information Sherlock’s microscope was able to provide him was that the skin was not diseased and consisted of a medium amount of melanin. The data was too small.

“Useless,” Sherlock disposed of the glass slide in to the kitchen trash. He glanced at the plastic bag on his counter containing the rest of the samples and pondered whether to rid of it as well. _No. Might come useful later when more evidence is collected._ What he needed was another scene, another piece to the puzzle.

Sherlock clicked the light off in the kitchen and walked into the living room- illuminated solely by the sodium haze of street lights filtering through the blinds. He needed another case.

The violin looked lonely perched on Sherlock’s chair, but he felt no urge to pick it up. His mind was buzzing. Sherlock found himself in a rare place tonight.

He was stuck.

The only thing left now was to wait for another lamb to be caught for the slaughter. Another reflection of what he could be one day. Underneath all the confidence, brilliance, and authority, Sherlock knew the reflections of himself could be erased at the sniff of his scent.

_No. I need to refocus._

He sat on the couch and steepled his fingers underneath his chin as he entered his mind palace. He needed another murder.

*****

_Our stuck together pieces._

_The joke is I don’t need this._

_You can hardly tell the difference._

_Well I know but I don’t care._

“You know, even with my clients, you have by far given me the _strangest_ request,” Irene leaned back on her armchair and crossed her legs. Her eyes flicked at the mirror hanging in her living room, “I’m supposing you’re not a political man, or even a money man, so what are you?”

Jim smiled, “A man searching for power. Like yourself. And a man not as stupid as you assume.” His eyes followed hers to the mirror. “I’ve already won this game we’re playing, so just to flaunt the dominance you’ve just given me, I’ll only give you one offer. I’ll keep your little secret.”

Irene’s eyebrow lifted, “You truly think you’ve sapped my power away in a mere thirty minutes?”

 “Correction: _know._ Now,” Jim stood up from her couch, “I’m sure my people have already sent you the instructions. I’ll be on my-”

Irene got up from her seat quickly, “You must be as foolish as you look if you-”

“The password- it’s _him_ , isn’t it? How cute,” Jim grinned at her while buttoning his waistcoat, “I’m not going to repeat myself. Now, will you please tell your darling omega over there that if she lay one finger on me, this lovely house will vanish from the map. Am I clear?”

Irene’s breath stopped. Her eyes shifted to the doorway, “Kate, stand down.”

“That’s a good girl. Now, have fun! I liked this chat- we should meet like this more often. Toodles!” Jim flashed a brilliant smile before exiting the room.

Kate stepped back as he walked past her. She entered the room immediately after, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Irene remained focused on the doorway, “That certainly doesn’t matter anymore.”


	8. Playmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though, I've had alphas like you beg to be mastered.

_I've forgotten who I am._

  
_Snakes uncoiling._

  
_Pressed up to the glass._

**_Six years earlier_ **

“So what did it feel like when you…realized?” John glanced up from his hands at his sister.

Harry smiled. She downed her drink and cleared her throat, “Well, I was sixteen for starters. I always _knew_ was ‘different’ even when you were born. I always would watch girls extra closely on the telly- you could imagine the ways my eyes lighted up when I finally found our dad’s porn collection,” she opened her hands in front of her face and laughed. John smiled.

She grabbed her bottle of wine and poured another glass, “But at sixteen, that’s when I finally _knew._ At first it used to be half-and-half, I didn’t want to let go of the idea that liking bloke omegas was what I was supposed to do. So I held on,” she took another sip, “but eventually it all came down to the moment I tried to shag one and it all blew up. Yeah, I definitely knew by then.” Harry giggled.

“And what did it feel like?”

“Well, I felt good at first. Like I finally had my life set up. I just became so damn giddy and I would sit up in my bed, imagining different girls and think ‘one day you’ll reach over and she’ll take your hand’ and things as cheesy as that. I told almost all my mates immediately too. I just felt… ‘blissful’ I guess is the word,” Harry stared at her glass. “But even after spending nights like that and making lists of girls I could proudly say I fancied, I cried. There was definitely a lot of crying. One night- I think I had to babysit you while mum and dad were out- but I remember sitting at the dining table alone and eating cereal at night and just crying into my bowl. I didn’t know what I was doing, or why, I just couldn’t stop.”

John’s brow furrowed, “But you told mum eventually.”

“And we’ve had a stellar relationship since then, haven’t we, Johnny?” Harry continued staring at the wine. Her lips fell into a line.

“I know, but… When you were crying…was it because you were afraid?”

“I knew that no matter how much I dreamed and got happy over it, I was basically destined to never have a normal life from there on out. No big wedding, no kids, no family to support me . After all those fantasies, I saw _this_ ,” Harry gestured around her empty flat. “But at least back then I figured I would still have a wife to be around.”

John moved over to his sister and slung an arm around her, “I’m sorry about Clara.”

Tear-slicken eyes looked up at him, “…Your new phone should work overseas.”

******

_All the toys in the factory._

“Ms. Irene Adler. Dominatrix catering specifically for alphas,” John read from the file. He turned to the clothes being through out of their closet, “I thought you didn’t take your brother’s cases.”

A strained voice came from inside, “It’s not for his benefit. There’ve been no murder linked to the Rogers or Sanders cases in the past month, and you know I’m not a patient man, John. Plus,” Sherlock walked in a black shirt and suit, “this is about a seven.”

John sighed, “All of that, and you didn’t even change your clothes. What is it about this woman that’s so major, anyway? Did she orchestrate some major sex scandal involving the royal family, prime minister, and a couple military advisors thrown in just for kicks?”

“Oh good, you’ve read the file. Sounds rather fun, doesn’t it?” Sherlock adjusted his cuffs.

John stared back at him, “You’re kidding.”

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now,” Sherlock left the bedroom.

John followed quickly after him into the living area, “Leave- ? Hold on, is that your disguise? You didn’t even change clothes!”

Sherlock smirked as he pulled off his coat from the kitchen table, “Then it’s time to add a splash of color.”

\------

_It doesn't mean anything._

_  
A meaningless plaything._

“There now, we’re both defrocked. Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” Irene smiled down at Sherlock.

“Miss Irene Adler, I presume.”

Irene folded the plastic collar from his shirt in her hand, “The Great Omega Detective- that’s what the papers call you. Is it true?”

Sherlock blinked, “What are you asking?”

Irene continued to grin, “Are you really a great detective?”

“I-”

“I missed something, haven’t I?” John entered the room with a bowl in hand, eyes unsure of what to take they’re taking in. They settled on the nude woman practically straddling Sherlock on her couch. Jealousy quietly flared in his stomach, “You’re Irene, I’m guessing.”

“Correct guess! I can already see the genius seething from you two. How exciting,” Irene stepped back from Sherlock and into her armchair where she gracefully folded her arms and legs over herself. “Please, Dr. Watson, sit down and chat with me for a while.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Your smell gives a contradicting answer, I’m afraid. Lovely alpha fragrance, even underneath all those drugs, if I may so myself,” her eyes dared John to glance down.

“I could say the same about your scent. Unsupressed? Isn’t that a bit risky for an omega servicing alpha clients?” John’s eyes remained hard.

Irene smirked, lifting up a forearm covering her breasts to gesture as she spoke, “Isn’t it a shame that we live in a world where alphas are so frightening that omegas have to hide in plain sight? To answer your question, Dr. Watson, I don’t take suppressant. I know what I brought myself into and how to handle the life I was destined to have. My clients always know who’s truly in control- now if only our society had the slightest idea,” her eyes shifted to Sherlock. “Now your scent I could barely detect. It’s obvious that I have nothing to hide, but what about you? D’you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock quirked his eyebrow. John watched both of them. He licked his lip nervously.

Irene folded her arm back across her chest, “However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait.”

The confusion on Sherlock’s face deepened, “You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?”

“No,” Irene tilted her head, “I think your damaged, delusion, and believe in a higher power. However, you won’t admit that you merely _pretend_ it’s yourself. It’s quite sad, actually. The alpha culture’s already snipped your dreams before you got a chance to grow.”  She frowned.

“What the hell are-” John was interrupted by Sherlock’s “And you’re proposing a life serving alphas is significantly more rewarding?”

“More _freeing_. I have the power and control omegas dream they could have in this world. Just with the help of a whip and the lovely sound of a camera shutter. It’s not the twentieth century anymore, Mr. Holmes, omegas aren’t immediately turned into cattle at first heat,” Irene unfolded herself out of her chair. She stood and stared directly at John, “Though, I’ve had alphas like you beg to be mastered.”

John cleared his throat, “Could you put something on?”

“I’m fine at the moment, actually. Thanks,” Irene turned to Sherlock’s gaze, “I know why you both are here, so let me make a deal with you. You want the photographs, and I need a place to hide. I also know you’re on the bonding cases, and I’ve been told I’m not too bad with mysteries.”

Sherlock lifted his brow before standing up and looking down at her, “And what makes your current home insufficient?”

“Oh, just the fact that that three men will be entering my home in approximately eight minutes demanding the location of the photographs- which, if you’re as clever as you look, know already,” Irene kept smirking.

“I do.”

“Good.”

Sherlock looked at John briefly before flicking his eyes back to her, “And what could you know about the bonding cases that could be any more enlightening that what I’ve gathered?”

Irene’s gaze held unchangingly, “Would you like to ask the landlord I had the pleasure of visiting two days ago? He had some interesting stories to tell before he got a bit tongue-tied.”

John exchanged a look with Sherlock. _Who was this woman?_

Sherlock took off his coat and handed it to her, “I want every detail.”

“Of the murder or the session?” Irene accepted the clothing.

Sherlock ignored her quip, “We should leave before your visitors arrive. Photographs?”

Irene smiled sweetly, “Already shipped. Don’t worry, darling, it’s the effort of you coming here that counts.” She brushed past John as she left the room, “Now, on your way, boys.” 

John’s eyes snapped from her exiting silhouette to Sherlock. He slushed the water in the bowl he was carrying, “Well. Congratulations, I think we’ve found another you for the next couple of months. Definitely a seven.”

Sherlock scowled before following her out.

John watched him leave for a moment. Irene.  _Unsuppressed omega dominatrix._ She knew the power their world would allow her would never be enough, so she stole it from the alphas. And Sherlock was captivated.

John inhaled and walked out of the room after the two omegas.

There was definitely a reason why this woman grabbed Mycroft’s attention.


	9. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's the stability?

_They possess me._

_I’m trying to be a thought killer._

_A penny for your thoughts, my love._

“Her name's Clarissa Evans. She’s omega who lived with another girl that is alpha- they both stayed for about four months before suddenly disappearing on Sunday. I tried their emergency numbers, but I haven’t contacted the police yet. It’s not long enough for them to be marked as missing persons. Something just doesn’t feel right though,” Mr. Cormick’s eyes flicked between Sherlock and John sitting on his couch.

“Maybe it’s an elopement. Were Carissa and her flatmate in a relationship?” John took a sip of the tea that was offered to them. Sherlock tsked underneath his breath. John’s head turned towards him briefly, “Wrong?”

“Quite. Mr. Cormick, tell us, what was Clarissa’s behavior like before her disappearance?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, I don’t know. She was normal. I don’t usually get into the lives of my tenants-”

“Oh spare me. Don’t even attempt to use that act- I can see from the oil markings on your phone and the mail you _tried_ to conceal on your table with someone else’s address. You’re _clearly_ a gossip hound.”

Mr. Cormick blinked. This time it was John’s turn to tsk. The landlord restarted his story, “Leslie would tell me about how she and Clarissa were doing. They weren’t in a relationship, but they both took suppressants to ensure a safe environment within the flat. They met in uni, both of them majored in accounting, and then they moved here to find employment but Leslie was the lucky one. She never liked to talk about it, but I could tell that she knew exactly what was going on.”

“Put two people against each other with the same credentials and background with altering permutations, and the alpha will always get the job,” John recited from common knowledge.

“Clarissa already had a history of depression before meeting Leslie, so it wasn’t surprising for it to come back in the first two months. She never received work so it was like she started melting into the décor. Well, at least that what Leslie would tell me. Clarissa wasn’t much of a talker with anyone. ”

“Understandable. Go on,” Sherlock said.

Mr. Cormick leant back in his armchair, “She stopped eating, washing up, and cleaning after herself. Sometimes Leslie would come home to Clarissa in the same ratty clothes throughout the week. It was like she lost motivation in everything. Even when Leslie would offer to help her scout out a job or review old books- Clarissa would almost never respond. It was like everything went ‘poof’ in her head... She also gained a couple of pounds.” He frowned.

“Binging?” John looked up from his moleskin where he was jotting notes. Mr. Cormick grinded his teeth, then shook his head, “She used to be bulimic. She was fine for a year before moving here but it started back up when things got bad. I guess while she tried to recover, her lack of motivation and control caused her to just…let go. Even in the brief moments I could see her, I could tell it was killing her to lose stability. I was concerned.”

Sherlock hummed, “You believe she ran away.”

Mr. Cormick was shocked. He backpedalled, “I never said-”

“But you did. You’re wrong though. It was a kidnapping.”

John scoffed, “And how can you explain that?”

Sherlock’s eyes kept on Mr. Cormick, “Give me three minutes in their flat and I’ll prove it to you. Clarissa lost all of who she was at the second the world proved to be as unforgiving to her gender as she anticipated, but she tried to suppress it. Like the enviable death we all  face, she practically came in physical contact with the very fear kept tucked away underneath her textbooks and diet pills. She needed recognition, stability, and structure, but once it was all stripped away as she watched her flatmate take it all in, she felt the motivation to do anything slip away. It _was_ killing her, but I assure you the last thing she wanted was to die. She wanted herself back- she’s not going to find it running away. Where’s the stability? With that being the case, the only option left is that she was taken by force from the mere threads of a life she had left. Leslie was taken as well.”

Mr. Cormick was left blinking. His adam’s apple bobbed, “Alright. Alright, I- I’ll find the key for you.”

John turned to Sherlock as the landlord collected the key. He wanted to ask, _is that how you feel now too? Like your life’s being stripped away while I take what’s given to me?_ He wanted to apologize to him, but he knew that was all wrong. Apologize on the behalf of what? Clarissa wouldn’t have gotten her job even if Leslie tried to help, and she knew that. Everyone knew. He swallowed the question down. What would pity do?

 John was sure Sherlock would say it would be completely useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. A lot of stuff's going on, but I hope you enjoy the story so far. :)


	10. The Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch yourself, darling, you’re already starting to sound like an alpha.

_You got me. You got me._

_Back to bite me._

Clarissa and Leslie’s flat was relatively clean when Sherlock and John entered it. A fool would have simply though the girls had left merely hours ago. A fool who would have missed that the discarded nightgown on their living room floor and abandoned toast in the kitchen were four days old. Scratch that, the nightgown was discarded four days ago but hadn’t been washed for nine days. Belonged to Clarissa then. _Clearly._

Sherlock sniffed the air. The bitter scent of an alpha was barely detected. He called out to the landlord downstairs, “You said they both used suppressants?”

“Yeah, why?” Mr. Cormick answered.

Sherlock treaded more carefully around the space, taking quick glances at crumbs on the floor, small tears in the wallpaper and… _ah._ “John, look.” He pointed at the grip marks in the couch’s armrest, leaning in to smell it. “Ah, yes, alpha,” Sherlock waved a hand dramatically over his nose, “A male one by the smell of it.”

John licked his lips nervously, “Abduction, then?”

 _“Fiesty, huh? It’s okay, I like ‘em that way!”_ Sherlock shook his head immediately at the memory and took out his magnifying glass, “It’s the most possible solution. However…” He looked around him at the seemingly undisturbed space, “It doesn’t explain Leslie’s disappearance or the abductor’s motivation.”

“Well, Leslie had to have been out in order for this guy to come in unthreatened. Shouldn’t it be as simple as a typical forced bonding, someone-left-the-door-open-during-a-heat sort of thing?” John looked around the room.

“She was on suppressants, John. Remember. It’s highly unlikely that she could have lured in any predators, so the real question is why he came in here. It’s obvious isn’t it?”

“What is?” John glanced back at him.

“This was planned. For quite a long time it seems. It may be possible that Clarissa’s behavior and inclination to remain in this flat was enticed. No one would suspect any oddities in an omega being unemployed. And Leslie…” Sherlock dashed to her bedroom. Unlike Clarissa she was very organized. Reference books were stacked neatly on her desk. Bed made. Not a thing out of place in her closet. Sherlock grabbed her alarm clock from her night stand. It was turned off. “John, she was here when it happened.”

“What?” John walked inside, “You think she negotiated with him? Why? Who would sell out their own flatmate? What incentive did she have?”

Sherlock checked the alarm time. _6:30AM_. “She would have turned it off every morning before going to work and reset it as soon as she returned each day. Based on her need to organize and line her desktop and books with sticky notes labeled with times for each activity, time was a necessity for her. She wouldn’t come home without making sure she had it ready for the next day,” He turned towards John, “The abductor came during the morning. Clarissa was in the living room in her usual attire of unwashed clothing when a knock came at the door. She didn’t answer it, and Mr. Cormick was out or else he would have encountered the man before his entry into this flat. The man came in quickly enough to apprehend Clarissa and his scent would have immediately alerted Leslie. The very fact that Leslie had done nothing and there are no signs of actions executed towards her means that she left with them willingly. He had offered her something she couldn’t refuse.”

John nodded, crossing his arms, “Her flatmate’s life?”

“No… it was more than that. Something she truly wanted.”  

“Fucking hell, Sherlock, I’m not a genius- just spit it out!” John snapped.

Sherlock placed the alarm clock back in its place. “Clarissa.”

A clatter of footsteps alerted both men in the room. John froze, his hand automatically jumping to the sig tucked against his back. Sherlock held a hand out towards him, “No. Wait.” He walked to John’s place at the doorway and peered back in the living room.

“It was boring waiting around while you boys had all the fun. Miss me?” Irene smiled from the doorway. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail that slung over one of John’s jackets. “Found our man yet?”

“Not yet,” Sherlock approached her, “Leslie might not be innocent either.”

“Oh, is that so?” Irene’s eyes flicked to John. Her lips curled, “ _Scandalous._ ”

John bit the inside of his cheek. He let go of his pistol and entered the living room, “Seems like this abductor’s playing matchmaker- he promised to give Clarissa to Leslie if she complied. Why would he be so invested to help two unknown women?”

“We’ll have to ask him personally, won’t we?” Sherlock removed his gloves.

Irene raised her eyebrows, “How did you even find out there was a man in here in the first place?”

“Alpha scent. Both women were unsuppressed but this man wasn’t. Any idiot with a nose could detect it coming from the couch.”

“Not this idiot,” John muttered.

Irene laughed, “John, you never told me you owned a sniffer dog.”

Sherlock looked at her blankly, “I’m not a dog.”

“No, but you’d look good in a leash,” She walked closer to him, “Maybe I’ll do some shopping for you. On Christmas, I can take you on a nice little walk.”

Sherlock continued to stare at her before opening his mouth again, “John, phone Lestrade and get the police over here. Also, bring Mr. Cormick up for further questioning.”

John rushed out of the room when Sherlock spoke more softly, “I can tell that you know something. Tell me where he is.”

Irene smirked, “One condition.”

“What?”

“One kiss for an address.”

“No.”

“Worth a shot,” Irene turned to the door. “This way- come along.” Sherlock followed her down the stairs as she spoke, “I figured you would have found it yourself. I guess I beat you,” She grinned back at him, “You’re paying for the cab.”

John caught a brief flash of them leaving the complex while on the phone. “Sherlock?”

“What?” Lestrade asked on the line.

“Er, nothing. I think we have another bonding murder on our hands. But this time there’s a third party. Come quickly.”

Irene and Sherlock climbed inside a hailed taxi.

“You know I’ll get my way eventually,” Irene said after giving an address to the cabbie.

“I never knew omegas could be so aggressive.” Sherlock said noncommittally.

“And you aren’t? Watch yourself, darling, you’re already starting to sound like an alpha.”

Sherlock fell silent. His mind scatted to the images flashing past the window, to the nearly perfect flat, to the indents in the couch, and to the corridor walls, each bump and paper tear sinking underneath his fingertips on Hackney Road five years ago.

To his mother’s voice washing over his ears, _“It’s alright, Sherlock dear. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. No one else will have you while I’m here.”_

“I don’t need to be given power, I take what I want,” Sherlock stated.

“Of course you do, darling. You and I both,” Irene looked out of her own window, “You and I both…”


	11. Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funnily enough, I’d prefer to see you do you magic. You know- give me the deep chills only an alpha could.

_A swinging door._

_A penny for your thoughts._

_They try to jump me._

_A penny for your thoughts, love._

The red club scene in Soho flashed past the cab- bass thumping through the glass and metal encasing Irene and Sherlock. Red and orange streetlights marked the streets they rode on, illuminating crowds and lines of the young and horny Londoners embarking on the desire to mate to the older and more desperate men and woman simply wanting to forget the worn-down partners left back in their homes.

The scents of heats at their peak mixed with the chemically heightened smell of jacked alphas filled the space of the cab from the small opening left by Irene’s window. Sherlock glanced at her, “You’re taking us to a red district- why? What could the kidnapper possibility have to do with a miserable lot of partygoers and dreadful house music?”

Irene smiled to herself, keeping her eyes forward. The light hit her mouth in a manner that intensified the scarlet that painted her lips. “You’ll see, darling. Patience- has your boyfriend taught you anything?”

Sherlock scowled, “John’s not my… He doesn’t have to teach me anything.”

“Whatever you say. Oh,” Irene waved at the rearview mirror of the cabbie, “You can stop here, we’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous walking around here with you smelling like that? I can tell your little bloke ain’t an alpha,” the driver eyed Sherlock in his mirror skeptically.

“How nice coming from a man still living with his mother and four cats,” Sherlock flung back.

“Now, children, play nice. Here, keep the change. Know that I can handle myself,” Irene paid the driver and let herself outside of the car. Sherlock shortly followed her to the pavement. The smell of colognes, performance enhancers, and heats nearly suffocated him. Masses of people moved around them as Irene led on- Sherlock detected at least five girls on heat waves at varying stages, one hazardously close to being hospitalized and clinging onto two men with clearly unchaste ideas in mind for her.

“Down this way,” Irene called behind her. She turned from the harsh saturation of neon and LED lights striking her body- camouflaged by the bulk of John’s clothes. Sherlock ignored the intrigued expression of alphas watching her down an alley behind one of the clubs as he trailed.

“You see that staircase down there? He’s keeping them through those doors,” Irene stopped and pointed at a metal staircase leading to double doors in front of them.

“How do you know all of this?” Sherlock raised his eyebrow, “Know what this one _liked_ as well?”

Irene continued walking towards the stairway, “You can either interrogate me or simply take the information I give you to solve this case. Not both.”

“What makes you so sure I wouldn’t torture you now until you told me what I needed to know?”

Irene laughed, “Please, darling, behave. Don’t expect me to take any threats from you after you declined my kiss.”

The pair reached the double doors. Irene stared at Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned, “What? Didn’t your kidnapper mate leave you the keys to his house?”

“Funnily enough, I’d prefer to see you do you magic. You know- give me the deep chills only an alpha could,” Irene grinned up at him.

Sherlock glanced away from her dismissively. His eyes quickly fell on the fire escape suspended next to them, “We’ll have to go through a couple of levels before reaching the bottom. Keep up.” He grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder and swung his body up. The rusted steel beneath his feet clattered as Irene immediately followed after him up to the windows on top of the building. Sherlock rushed to one and began to pry it open by the time Irene arrived on the roof. It gave underneath his fingers, pushed open swiftly before Sherlock dropped his body into the building- his coat flying up behind him. Irene smirked to herself, running to the opening and climbing down after him.

They landed on yet another set of metal landings and stairs- running down them until reaching the floor level of a barely lit warehouse room. “Elevator ahead. He’ll be expecting us, but luckily I’m not one for modest approaches,” Sherlock looked back at Irene, “I can clearly see you’re not either.” He ran to the lift.

Irene leaned against the elevator’s railing once they piled inside and selected the basement floor. She sighed, a light smile still stretching her lips, “This will definitely turn out to be a better night than watching the tellie with your landlady for the hundredth time. Thank you for the lovely evening, honey.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“We all have our perspectives.”

The door’s in front of them opened before Sherlock’s mouth could, greeting them with a dim, red light illuminating a cement hallway and a wooden push-door straight ahead.

“Here’s our stop,” Irene moved in front of Sherlock to the door.

Sherlock fell in line behind her. He could make out the rapid flickering of an incandescent bulb filling the room beyond the door’s window.

The door gave away with a high creak, the smell of copper hitting them instantly. In the center of the grey room was Clarissa, stripped down and slashed with two red lines streaking her torso and cheeks. Stakes were drilled through her palms which were facing out from the chair she was strapped in, her arms and legs twisted outwardly. In front of her was a mirror- Sherlock’s name was scratched above Clarissa’s reflected image. Irene stepped forward slowly and leaned to peer through the glass, spotting another woman’s body strapped and mutilated in an identical fashion on the opposite side.

“It’s a two way mirror,” Irene placed a hand on the glass and squinted through. John’s name could be scene scratched on the side directly opposite of Sherlock’s. _Omega and Alpha._

“Of course it would be, the message here would be incomplete without its symmetry,” Sherlock said evenly. He was still examining Clarissa’s body. The cuts were made with a dull knife post- mortem to keep the bold marks from being interfered with. He glanced down to her crotch. Signs of stretching and blood were clear. He looked at the mirror to see Leslie unaffected. _Forced bonding again._

Irene turned to him and raised a brow, “Aren’t you concerned? It’s quite clear now who his audience is.”

Sherlock’s eyes met hers, his lips still in a tight line, “The only concern I hold is if he is still in this building. Would you know? You’ve been doing a remarkably good job of keeping his whereabouts from me so far.”

Irene’s expression dropped, “I-”

Both heads snapped up to the ceiling- the elevator had been called.


	12. Weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …I don’t think the alphas to be any safer... Do you feel in control?

### Chapter Text

_While my heart keeps returning,_

_I am lost._

_I am weightless._

_With my arms by my side._

_I am rust._

_I am waiting._

**_Four years ago_ **

“Now, Mr. Sutherland, are you ready for your punishment?” Irene straddled the man’s thighs, keeping his erect cock carefully away from her crotch. She grinned down at him, her hand tightly stroking down her riding crop. He let out a groan muffled by the ball gag in his mouth.

A sharp slap struck his chest, leaving an angry mark. “I said no talking!” Irene took one hand off her crop to grab at his chin, “You want your knot in me, right? You’ll have to be a better boy than that. Now, place your hands on the headboard and close your eyes.”

Sutherland quickly complied, his pink knuckles facing the ceiling as he gripped the wood behind him. He let out a softer breath before closing his eyes. Irene leaned forward and slid the crop down from the blonde wisps of hair at his crown to the dusty fur covering his chest. She traced the mark left by the crop, grabbing at a nipple with her free hand and earning a surprised jerk.

“No moving either,” another crack filled the hotel room. The ghostly complexion of her fingers on his reddening chest contrasted with the black leather traveling up her wrists to her elbows. She pinched Sutherland’s nipple again and shifted her crotch forward to rub against his balls, watching carefully for a reaction. Sweat broke out over his brow but no sound or movement was made. But the smell was stronger. _Remarkable self control._ “No dirty talk yet? Are you going to let go of that headboard and take me, Mr. Sutherland?” Irene leaned farther down and bit his ear, letting him take in her scent. She whispered, “Am I not delicious?”

Another groan slipped out of the man, giving him in return a harsh slap across the face. Irene smirked, “What am I kidding? Look at you. Look at your life. Fast cars, cheap omega women, loving housewife and kids- you only want what you don’t already have. Or else you wouldn’t have come to me, you wouldn’t have snuck out on your family to some red district hotel, and you wouldn’t already be on the brink of knotting without a babbling, wet, heat-struck omega under you.”

Sutherland cried as Irene pushed back and gave him five more hits across his chest before reaching down and gripping his cock. Her eyes remained on him all while her fingers slid lightly up his shaft and glands, circling around the large glob of pre-come at his tip and squeezing. His hips jumped underneath her sheer-covered thighs. “Are you going to be a good little alpha and let me take control if I let you inside?”

Tears gathered at the edges of Sutherland’s eyelids as he nodded quickly. Irene smirked, “Good, time to put you in your place.” Her fingers left the head of his cock, trailing behind a light string of discharge while she unzipped the base of her leather knickers, revealing her cleft. The smell of her immediately affected Sutherland- the man so well disciplined that his only tell was the flare of his nostrils.

“Now, before much else, the rules still apply. No sounds and no movements. This is for _my_ pleasure- you didn’t come here to get what you want. You came here to be my slave. Understood?”

Another short nod from the man below allowed Irene to toss her crop onto the king bed and fold the flaps of her knickers apart. She stared down Sutherland as she took hold of his cock again, now turning nearly violet, and using another hand to slide down and circle her engorged clitoris. “You think you’re a big man, sitting in your office chair, calling all of the shots- but you know right now, at this very moment with your embarrassing pants and pleas beneath me, _I’m_ the one in control. I see so many of you in my line of work- _I’m_ what you all wish you could have, the omega that merely lies in fantasy. The omega that causes you to _beg._ ”

Irene trailed her fingers down her labia, already slicken with discharge, and parted them. Slowly taking two fingers within herself, she moved her body forward and aligned herself with the cock in hand. “I will go as slow or fast as I like- if you do anything to interrupt my pleasure, this session will immediately end.”

\-----

The pavement outside of the hotel was glossed with rain by the time Irene had gathered her things. Kate had left no text messages by the end of Irene’s session. It was unusual, but not impractical since Kate was working on the same night as her. _But still…No, she’s done this before._ Irene corrected the straps on her heels and the buttons on her coat before straightening up and heading down the street to find a cab nearby. _But at this hour?_ She glanced at her watch. _4:25AM_. Bastard wouldn’t let out of her once his knot came in- she practically had to writhe and fake moan on top of him for an additional hour and half before his cock began to swell down.  Irene looked around once she reached a street corner. Only a few cars were parked on the road, some could be seen in the distance, but none resembling a cab. She sighed. At least she had made enough for the week’s shopping. Word wasn’t spreading fast enough to stabilize her or Kate’s lifestyle. But Irene at least had her mask.

The pills she took to replicate omega heats were slowly getting out of hand the more she abused them. This night almost became too much, she could feel herself being carried away ever so slightly to Sutherland’s scent. She would need to take a hiatus before it worsened, which met Kate would have to spend more time out in the field. Complete opposite of what Irene originally wanted.

Being an alpha at least kept Irene safe from being overpowered or harmed if her clients ever decided to disobey- something she always made sure to prevent through initial domination exercises each session, but always kept as a fear nevertheless. Kate couldn’t have that advantage if something went wrong. Irene let air out through her nose. She was too tired to begin thinking about that again.

But it wasn’t like Kate to call or text before she went out. _Maybe…_ No, stop. Still no cab in sight. _Might as well call for one._ Irene slid her bag down to her elbow, opening it and digging through for a card. _There still’s something wrong with tonight. Kate should have texted. No, stop it, Irene._ Something brushing her fingers began vibrating- her mind briefly connecting it to a vibrator going haywire before realizing it was her phone. _Shit. More exhausted than I had thought. Must be Kate._

She shouldered the phone against her ear while attempting to balance her bag on her knee and keep digging with both hands, “Irene speaking.”

“Irene! I-I need you to get me- the client wasn’t what I expected- I’ve locked myself in a bedroom… they’re banging on the door, I can smell all of them through the wood, I should have known- I’m so stupid- I- Irene, please-” Kate’s hushed voice cracked through the line.

_Are you fucking serious?_ Irene’s fingers halted, “Are you still in Maisonnette Rouge?”

“Y-yes- please, Irene-!”

“Listen, I’m coming over there right now, stay there and if you can, find a weapon. Remember what I taught you in case things like this happened- do you remember? Respond if you do, Kate!”

“I-I do-”

“I want you to do whatever you can- whatever you have to if that means you’ll survive, alright? By any means, if I don’t get there in time, I want you to just focus on getting yourself out in one piece, okay? I’m coming- stay safe, please, Kate!” Irene ended the call and slung her bag back on her shoulder.

Her heels clacked loudly through the empty streets as she turned a corner to the other hotel two blocks within the red district. She could feel her balance begin to slip from the puddles coating the ground beneath her. Strains of her hair, barely retouched, fell from the buns she constructed, her heart pounded faster than her legs could carry her through the changing traffic lights and sounds of storm clouds recollecting in the sky.

She nearly fell when she reached the velvet staircase leading up to the golden doors of the hotel. Odd stares from the reception desk and security in the lobby were ignored as heels clattered quickly to the elevator corridor. Irene could hear shouts of “Miss?” while the doors opened and closed. She racked her brain for the room number left in the email Kate forwarded her from the client- _207? No, was it- either 720 or 702? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Irene pushed the key to the seventh floor, feeling her heart and lungs struggle underneath her shaking chest. She would just have to follow the scent of alphas- but was there even enough time? Was she already late? How many were in there with Kate? A door couldn’t hold a group of them, especially men who most likely were jacked on some substance to plan to gang rape an escort.

The door opened while Irene’s thoughts continued to spiral out of control- her body moving automatically into the hallway. There was a scent that could be detected in the air, yet camouflaged by perfumes used by red hotels to mask the otherwise pungent smell of multiple bondings occurring at once. Irene sprinted down the corridors of the floor, nearly hobbling around a corner while sniffing the air for a trace of the odor increasing. She passed door 719 before a loud thud of something large breaking came from across the hall. _720!_   Irene pivoted to the door and knocked on it. She dropped her bag at the doorway and prepared herself. Her red nails bit into her palm.

The door opened relatively soon with a soft click, a tall man emerging from behind it with another person behind him, “Yeah? What is this, maid’s service? Didn’t you see the sign on our door?”

Irene’s voice caught in her throat when the sharp scream from deeper within the suite was emitted. Her body lashed out instantly- fist pushing the door violent back against the man and arms snapping forward with her weight to knock him down to the floor. Heat filled her veins, vision turning blurry and red, as her knuckles connected with his jaw and her body shot back up to attack the second alpha, already picking up a vase to combat her. Irene growled, launching herself towards the man and kicking straight onto his crotch. She grabbed at his jaw when she floored him, energy building and folding over itself in her chest as she snapped his neck.

Another crash of furniture came from the farthest bedroom in the suite. The screams were clearly being muffled by a hand; two men were with Kate by the sound of it. Irene climbed off the body, momentarily crawling towards the door before gaining traction under the toe of her heel to push herself back up.

“Kate!” Irene grabbed a figurine from one of the suite’s hallway tables as she ran towards the broken bedroom door. By the time she reached the room, she could see that Kate was already having her clothes ripped from her, her body curled in best fetal position she could make with the heavy male on top of her.  Tears streamed her cheeks as she wailed- her eyes were squeezed shut with her fists and legs. The second man in the room immediately spotted Irene at the doorway and pouched her- pushing her back out into the hallway and slamming her head against a mirror, causing the figurine to fall. The rest of Irene’s hair fell apart while shards of glass tangled in her locks or dropped to the floor. The man’s hands went to her throat and hers to his forearms. She briskly lifted her legs up and kicked at his torso, attempting to push him away. The white anger inside her bubbled to a higher magnitude- Irene went blind and numb of fear when her strength suddenly multiplied. She pushed with her hands and legs, moving the man’s hands slowly off of her, and biting a large portion of his wrist when he finally let go. She advanced him as soon as she was freed, her face void of anything but a psychotic trance filling her silver eyes. Her hands grabbed hold of his shirt collar while he was disoriented. She quickly pulled his head down and bashed it against hers, knocking him cold onto the floor.

“Kate!” Irene called again, re-entering the room. Kate’s eyes snapped opened, reddened and glossed over, “Irene, fuck, I- please-”

“Get the fuck off of her!” Irene snarled, clawing the back of the man and pulling him off of Kate. She tossed him to the carpet next to the doorway and straddled him, knees crushing his elbows and legs to the floor while he thumbs flick up to the sockets of his eyes and pressed in. Blood squirted up to her palms and wrists, the man’s body squirming violently underneath her as his screams filled the room.

With another press into his skull, his voice finally stammered off to a choke and then silence. Irene slipped her thumbs out from him, breathing heavily and closing her eyes- her respiration growing heavier as parasympathetic neurons shot off inside her body. The heat, the furious buzzing in her eyes quickly faded away and was replaced with the soft cries of Kate nearby.

Irene opened her eyes and climbed off of the man to crawl to her, senses slowly coming back to her as she looked at the fresh bruises decorating Kate’s exposed sides and neckline. Her lip was busted and a yellow bump was beginning to show at her temple. She was trembling, eyes unable to leave Irene’s.

Irene slowly approached her, kneeling down to place a bloody hand on her cheek. “Stop shaking,” Irene muttered. “Please stop.”

“I should have known- I-”

“Please, stop talking. Don’t make a sound or move,” Irene sucked in a breath, “We’re going to get you cleaned up…and then we’re going to get far from here. It won’t take much for people to put two and two together, so we’ll need protection. And we’ll find it. We’re going to go home, pack, and find a way to be on top if- _when_ the law finds us.” She brushed the auburn hair from Kate’s shaking shoulder. “Understood?”

Tears continued to fall silently from Kate’s eyes as she nodded, body still in frozen in a broken fetal position and torn clothes pooled around her.

Irene could feel her own eyes becoming wet. She bit her lip, feeling the intense wave of anger return within her. She stared at the blood from her hand staining Kate’s bare shoulder, the sight of it turning increasingly unclear. She barked abruptly, “Why couldn’t you take control from them? You omegas all end up the same way! What if I wasn’t here, Kate? What if- what if this happens again, you shouldn’t be doing this! Do you see-” Irene’s head fell to Kate’s collarbone as she collapsed into sobs, fingers clasped on her body. “I can’t keep doing this! I shouldn’t have to look after another human being- I shouldn’t have to _own_ you so that _they_ wouldn’t! I shouldn’t- fuck, Kate- I shouldn’t-”

A trembling hand touched the back of Irene’s head.

“…I don’t think the alphas to be any safer... Do you feel in control?” Kate whispered.

“ Of course fucking not!”

“Irene.”

Irene pulled up to look at Kate.

Kate attempted to smile, fighting the shaking of her frail body, “We’ll take control. We’ll take it. Let’s find that protection, alright?”

Irene’s lips remained unmoved. She jerked a nod. “I’ll help you up.”


	13. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There it is again.

_Couldn’t care less._

_I know it’s you._

“You seem genuinely surprised,” Sherlock rushed towards the door, pushing it open with his body, “Which means we don’t have much time.”

Irene froze, “And what makes you think I’m so surprised?” _This wasn’t the plan Jim described._ It was enough plunging herself back into the dirt she had spent years crawling out of. Now the twisted little Irishman was throwing in one of his henchmen to off her? _That bastard._

“I’d rather not further prove your stupidity,” the hum of the elevator intensified as Sherlock burst into the hallway, “Now hurry up!” Irene’s footsteps quickly caught up. The lift reached the floor the moment Sherlock and Irene met its metal doors.

“Planning to just say hello?” Irene glanced up at Sherlock. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands.

“In a manner of speaking,” the ding of the door opening was followed by the fast jab Sherlock made at the attacker’s nose, flinging the man’s body back against the wall of the lift. His face was covered by a baklava, yet the wet spot of blood flowing out of his nose was quickly made visible.  Sherlock entered the elevator, lifting the man off the wall and holding up his unconscious body. He nodded over at Irene, “Hurry before the doors close!”

Irene bit her lip before walking inside and pushing the button for ground level, “I take it you’ll be hauling this poor sod to your lawman?”

“I think he may be of significance. Yes.”

*****

_It slipped down, out of my hands._

_And flipped out._

_Went wandering._

_Stumbling._

It had been two hours without any word. The crime scene was pretty much cold after Sherlock had figured it out. So cold that questioning Mr. Cormick had done nothing more for John and Greg but repeat what was already discovered. John sat across from Greg at his desk back at the station- both waiting for either of their phones to ring with news.

Greg tapped away on his computer through the silence. John stared at the glass wall facing him, eying the lights of the building shut off across the street. It was nearly midnight. He shouldn’t be concerned. He really shouldn’t. It was Sherlock. He did this all the fucking time. But Irene- she definitely knew the right buttons to push. There was more than a little off with her. John sighed, hearing the tick of the room’s clock increase in a counter-rhythm to Greg’s slow typing.   _Fucking hell, look at me. Sitting around like an anxious parent. Worrying like it’s actually my responsibility to keep Sherlock safe. Like it’s some biological right._

_But it is._

John closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. _There it is again._ The clock ticked harder. A light _pit pat_ of rain hit the window, glowing in the orange haze of the streetlights below. And then a sudden aroma was noticed. It was underneath several different layers. Body wash. Deodorant…Cologne? John looked up, “Uh, Greg?”

Greg’s eyes remained on the screen, “Yeah?”

John straightened in his chair, “Are you off suppressants?”

 “Oh,” Greg’s fingered halted on the keyboard. He gave John a small smile, “I, uh, didn’t think it was that noticeable yet. I tried buying this new brand of cologne that said it would eliminate the smell, but I’m guessing I should get back my money, huh?”

John returned the smile with an awkward laugh, “So you and Mycroft are um…”

“…Yeah.”

“….And he’s okay with it?”

Greg leaned back on his chair, “It seems like it. He admitted that he never was on suppressants to begin with. To be honest, he was actually the one constantly asking me if I was okay with my decision.”

“So you’re bonding then? You know the implica-”

“Oh lord, don’t you start with that rubbish too. Yes, I know the implications. Yes, I want to start a family with him,” Greg continued to smile at John, “And yes, I know that by alpha-omega law that means soon you’ll be addressing me as detective inspector Holmes.”

A bustle of feet outside the office caused John and Greg to turn their attention before John could reply. Irene smirked at John when she and Sherlock arrived at the station with their limping suspect being hauled into an interrogation room by officers. Greg got up from his chair- following the herd of men after shooting the pair a look and patting John’s shoulder. John trailed him out of the office. Sherlock and Irene stopped at the door when John came out.

“Where the hell did she take you?” John asked, ignoring Irene’s comically raised brow.

Sherlock tilted his head slightly, keeping his voice even, “The lair of the kidnapper and location of Leslie and Clarissa’s corpses.”

“ _Corpses?_ ”

“Well what else would you expect the man to do to them? Dress them up nice and spiffy for a Christmas ball?” Irene chimed in.

John set his jaw. He inhaled and spoke again, “I want to know everything you saw in there.”

“Why? There’s no need in repeating the event until the suspect has proven my theories to be correct. Don’t be so eager to update your blog until the percentage of completion on this case is at least at sixty.”

Irene made a short laugh.

John spoke lower, “Listen- you telling me what’s going on? Yeah, that’s a bit important.”

“And why exactly? I could see you from the window, John. From the way you sat to your manner of approaching me- you thought I couldn’t handle myself out there.”

“Look- I just think it’s important that we both know where we-”

“That _you_ know where _I_ am,” Sherlock’s expression remained unfazed. “It’s obviously why the killer would mark us as his primary subjects.”

“Now, Sherlock, that wasn’t very nice,” Irene said mockingly.

“Would you shut the hell up?” John shot at her. He turned back to Sherlock, “And what the hell are you talking about? How are we his subjects?”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked away, his attention retreating back to his mind. If matters were truly progressing into what he theorized, he would need John to be _part_ of his plan. Not to simply play along with it. As for Irene, her companionship would be required for an extended period of time. _This was not the correct time for sharing data._

Sherlock glanced back at John, “There’s no further point in waiting here for nothing. Those idiots most likely won’t receive any information from the suspect for approximately four days.”

John’s eyes remained set on Sherlock before letting out a curt, “Let’s head home, then.”

*****

_It slipped out of my hands._

_Went deep down._

_I don’t want to start._

“Where are you going?” Sherlock asked as he walked out of  their bathroom.

John turned around to him from the bedroom doorway. Sherlock stared back at him blankly, dark hair still wet against his forehead from the shower, John’s old military shirt hanging too loosely over Sherlock’s chest and the waistband of his fading pajama bottoms. His grey eyes catching in the light filtering through the blinds. His expression of simultaneous confusion and comprehension of what John was thinking. John pressed the pillow he took from their bed closer against his side, “Had too much caffeine at the station. I thought of popping down and making use of it by cleaning some of your old experiments out of the kitchen.”

“With the pillow?”

“I was thinking of reviewing some of my medical books while I’m down there. Haven’t had much time to do that in the last few days.” Second reply faster than the first.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” Sherlock meant that as an observation, not a statement. He pulled the sheets back from their bed and sat on the mattress. “You’re frustrated.”

John exhaled, “I don’t mean this in a harsh way.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sherlock continued to stare at him. “What did Lestrade say to you in his office?”

“It’s not relevant to this-”

“What was it?”

John clenched his arm around the pillow, standing his ground, “He’s decided to come off surpressants.”

Silence.

“Is that so? And Mycroft agreed to this?”

“Yeah, the entire thing was pretty much a mutual agreement. They’ll be bonding soon.”

The grey eyes on John refused to move, “And how does that make you feel?”

“What?”

“I’m trying to construct an emotionally intimate moment with you.”

“…You really don’t need to force yourself. I just need this tonight, okay?”

The return of silence in the room was cut by the sound of the nightstand lamp being clicked off by Sherlock. “Fine then. Enjoy doing whatever boring things you said you were up to.”

John threw a quick “And a good night to you too” over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.


	14. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad Sherlock has found himself a little playmate while John is away. I swear, the things he does to this flat when here’s bored… I’ll just say that I’m thanking god every day that you’re keeping him right.

_If I’m not there now._

_Physically._

_I’m always before you._

_Come what may._

 

**_Twelve years earlier…_ **

“You’re an embarrassment, Harry! At first I thought you were just an alcoholic and a slacker, but a lesbian Alpha as well? What do you think your father will say? Or your great aunt? What are you _doing_ with your life?!”

John watched the shadows flicker past the small crack of light from his bedroom doorway. He pulled his pillow closer around his head, but his eyes couldn’t stop looking. His ears couldn’t stop listening. He could hear Harry’s sobs from the kitchen, her hiccups and chokes as their mother berated her.

“We are a family of integrity! Of honors and respect- and you, you just plan to deface all of what we’ve worked for, don’t you? You little whore, you disgrace- your father and I produce two healthy Alphas ready to carry on the Watson name, that’s what Alphas do!” A fist slamming on a counter echoed up to John’s room.

“Mum…please, I’m s-sorry, please, can we just drop it, please-”

“Drop it? After the shit you pulled, you think I’m just doing to let it drift away in the wind? No, your father’s hearing about this. I will not let my daughter be a disgrace!” A pause. Their mother’s voice sharpened, “My children are my future! My purpose! Without you both I have nothing, I have absolutely nothing!”

“Mum, I know, I’m sorry, I won’t say anything like it again, I’m sorry-”

“Shut your bloody mouth! You are an alpha, and you are my daughter, and your purpose on this planet is to reproduce the proper way! Your father and I have never had ‘gays’ in our families, creating improper pregnancies and sparking abominable environments- is that what you want to take part of? Is it? You have absolutely no respect for your omega mother. None at all. Sodding embarrassment is what you are. Now go to your room and wait for your father to come home.”

Another pause. John strained his neck trying to look through his ajar door. He could barely catch the brown ponytail of Harry’s pooling into her hoodie. Her back was hunched. Body shaking. John looked to the floor. He could tell the discussion was long past being redeemed.

 “Harry! What did I just say? Move!”

John could see his sister’s body moving out of the kitchen and past his door, “Yes, mother.” Her hand pushed against the cracked door, closing out John’s insight of the rest of the night.

********

_It cuts deep._

_It cuts deep._

_A human error._

 

“Molly, don’t try to dissect me, you already commit an atrocity daily on your cadavers.” Sherlock grabbed a jug from the lab’s cabinet. _Hydrochloric acid 12M._ Perfect for his experiment with the dismemberment of a cow carcass.

Molly carried a liver in a pan behind him, frowning, “You sound worried about John. Have you two had a proper chat about it?”

“No, he and I both know I’m not really one for….talking.”

“Is that Irene woman still living with you both?” Molly set the tray in a freezer and turned to Sherlock, “Don’t you think that’s...um, a bit wrong? I mean, John might have the wrong idea-”

“The wrong idea of what exactly? Two omegas handling themselves perfectly find without his supervision?” Sherlock glared at Molly.

“John seems like he’s trying the best he can.”

“Aren’t we all these days?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. He glanced at another jug full of 30M hydrofloric acid before taking it as well.

“That’s a bit unfair, I mean as an omega, I understand-”

“Molly, we’re hardly even remotely the same type of person. I would stop myself now before you embarrass yourself fully.” Sherlock turned his entire body towards her now. Eyes completely dark. His response came out too quickly. Too hard.

Molly blinked, then began heading towards the door, calling over her shoulder, “John’s going to find out you’re hiding something, you know. My dad used to be the same way as you were. It didn’t end well.”

Sherlock watched the doors to the lab slam shut.

*******

_And if there’s a god._

_If there’s a god._

_Is he’s watching?_

“Woo-hoo!” Mrs. Hudson rapped on the door before coming in with two cups of tea.

“Oh, hello,” John shot her a quick smile before returning to editing his blog. The clack of his fingers reverberated through the flat as Irene clipped her toenails by the fireplace- one of Sherlock’s dressing gowns covering her.

“Still not talking, you two? I’m so sorry, dearie,” Mrs. Hudson handed a cup to a smiling Irene, “Sometimes these boys really do act like children. If you ask me, I would say that both their mothers have a lot to answer for.”

“Hm.” John refreshed the page of his blog. The counter was still stuck. _Fucking great._

“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Hudson, I’m sure he’ll come around. I know Sherlock already has. In fact, the other day, while John was at work, Sherlock took me to this lovely Chinese hotel where a maid was beheaded by a ceiling fan. It was a charming afternoon.” Irene smirked at the back of John’s head, pleased to see his shoulders hunch up.

Mrs. Hudson placed another cup next to John’s laptop, “That’s grand dear! I’m so glad Sherlock has found himself a little playmate while John is away. I swear, the things he does to this flat when here’s bored… I’ll just say that I’m thanking god every day that you’re keeping him right.”

John rolled his eyes and grabbed his cup, taking in a scalding hot gulp of tea and hissing.

“Careful, dear, that’s straight from the kettle!”

“I know, I know, just-“ John sighed and continued on his blog.

Irene’s smile grew. She stretched herself out in Sherlock’s chair and gestured to John’s seat for Mrs. Hudson, “Mrs. Hudson, why don’t you join me? John’s so engrossed in his activities that I’m afraid I have no one to chat with while Sherlock’s out.”

“Oh, the boys never invite me for a chat, how kind, why of course!”

“Fantastic, now you must tell me how you’re able to keep your hair so fluffy and lively every morning.”

“Oh dear! Thank you, darling! Well, first I…”

John pressed the backspace keep slightly harsher than was necessary.


	15. Black Swans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be cautious, darling.

_While my heart keeps returning,_

_I am lost._

_I am weightless._

 

Sherlock awoke, jerking his head from the kitchen table. He looked down. A small amount of drool was pooled next to the base of his Bunsen burner. The lights connected to his electrolysis cell were cell lit in front of him. _Hm. Don't remember falling asleep._ His eyes sleepily glanced across the flat to the bright sunlight pouring out the living room curtains. Streaks of light painted the wooden floors, one ray fell on discarded bottles of chemical dyes and silver shavings. A figure crept into Sherlock's view, and it was wearing his dressing gown over its small frame.

"Well hello, beautiful," Irene approached the kitchen. She placed an empty mug of tea over Sherlock's drying drool and crossed her arms.

 

Sherlock took the cup, sniffing at it briefly and grimacing, "Do you _only_ wear my dressing gowns while you meander about uselessly?"

 

"I dunno. I think they're quite flattering actually. Wouldn't you agree?" Irene made a quick spin, the silk peeling away from her body and flowing up like scarlet wings. Sherlock put her mug down and stood up from the table, doing the buttons of his blazer and eyeing the flat. "Where's John?"

 

"Out getting milk. I swear, you've made him into a terrific, little omega. Fantastic work, dear. What's next, you'll have him don a cute, little French maid outfit and make you breakfast and tea every morning?”

 

 _John already cooks most of my meals_ , Sherlock thought but decided not to say. Instead he ignored her and checked his phone- cursing under his breath at the lack of interesting notifications. Mycroft's texts were immediately deleted on sight. "Scotland Yard is by far the poorest excuse of London's protectors. How could they not find a new murder in…How long did I sleep for?"

Irene wandered to the fireplace, her finger running a stripe through the dust shelved above it, “About fourteen hours, dear.” She wiped the dusts away by rubbing her fingertip with her thumb. Sherlock sighed dramatically and waved his hand in the air, “Regardless! They’re still a useless lot!” He walked over to his coat and scarf.

“And where _exactly_ are you headed? You still have dried saliva on the corner of your mouth.”

“Oh please, do shut up,” Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his next and began his way downstairs, “You’re beginning to sound like my mother. I’m heading out to find another lead. Don’t wait up.”

Irene watched him as he left, slipping her phone out from his gown’s pocket and sending out a quick text. 

_The queen’s stepped off her square. ROOK in action. The king won’t be home for another two hours. Be cautious, darling._

****

_I am hope._

_I can break this._

_I am lost._

_I am weightless._

“John? John?” Sarah knocked on John’s office door. No response “John? This is an emergency, where are you?” She turned the knob to see her surgeon sleeping over his paper work. Her knuckles rapped harshly on his desk, causing him to shout and yank his head up- papers scattering everywhere.

“Oh! Oh god, Sarah, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean- let me get that-” John bent down and scrambled to collect his documents. Sarah kneeled down to assist him, “second time this week, isn’t it, John? Boyfriend keeping you up?”

John placed his collected papers on his desk and stood back up, rubbing the bridge of his nose and chuckling, “No, it’s not that, I promise. Um.” He blinked, remembering what Sarah had been saying in his half-dream state. “Wait, did you mention an emergency?”

Sarah put her share of papers on the desk and straightened her lab coat, “Yes- a female omega patient was just admitted in critical condition and in heat. She’s currently under beta medical care, and usually I would sort out this sort of thing because of liability, but… She had an abnormal attack pattern on her abdomen. I think it might be part of your case.”

John’s eyes widened, “You think she may be the next victim?”

“Well, _could have been_ , but luckily someone rescued her in time. Though I haven’t told you the weirdest bit yet.”

“And what’s that?”

“The lab revealed suppressants are her blood stream. In fact, her hormonal level doesn’t match her heat symptoms at all.”

“That… can’t happen, can it?”

Sarah shook her head, “I don’t think anyone has ever seen any case like it. You might want to call Sherlock over- though knowing him, he’s probably already on his way. Meanwhile, I’ll assign a beta nurse to monitor you as you see the situation yourself.”

John nodded and grabbed his lab coat, “Alright. Though, you know I’ve been in contact with omegas in heat before without trouble, right?”

Sarah opened the office door for him, “I know, I know, John. Again, liability.” Her eyes followed him as he passed her before mentioning, “Oi, and you might want to call your police friend. I have a bad feeling this murder attempt might be repeated.”


End file.
